Of the pioneers of the American crime fiction, no one stands above Dashiell Hammett. His colorful gangsters, greedy molls, crooked politicians and disillusioned cops rank among the most memorable characters in crime fiction. Who could forget Sam Spade or his nemesis, "fat man" Gutman in the "Maltese Falcon". Or the anonymous operative of the Continental Detective Agency who cleans out a corrupt city single-handedly by instigating a series of bloody gang wars in "Red Harvest" (the same anonymous detective that solves the puzzle of "The Dain Curse" as well as appearing in dozens of short stories published in "Black Mask Magazine"). Then, of course, there are Nick and Nora Charles swapping wit over endless Martinis and bootleg booze as they search for "The Thin Man". All of these characters are chiseled out of Tommy Guns, saps and automatics that are never far from the action.
Hammett moves his plots ahead with the speed of a race car driver. We go from one scene of mayhem to another with the story lubricated by the blood of the killers and the victims.
These are not the refined "I've-brought-you-together-in-he drawing-room-to-expose-Sir-William's-murderer" type of stories. They depend more on Hammett's long experience as a Pinkerton detective and are rough and rude and represent an America of the twenties and thirties where debutants danced with gangsters and the law could be bought for a bottle of bootleg gin.